Shepard walked into the starboard cargo hold, wondering what mess of objects she would find Arius buried under on this day.
She found him focusing quite intently on one of the many screens he had installed in the room while the rest of his workplace was littered with datapads. She hadn't intended to snoop, but the exposed displays readily gave up their contents to her, and she found them to be filled with notes and images of many different people from all races and backgrounds.
He turned to see her with a bit of a start, absorbed in some reading material before her interruption. "Ah, Shepard," he said, greeting her with a smile. "What can I do for you?"
"Nothing really. I just wanted to check in with you, maybe chat. Are you in the middle of something?"
"Nothing that can't wait," he answered her, putting down the datapad he was holding, "If you're wondering who they are," he said, nodding towards the screens, "they were supposed to be you, or at least, your replacements."
"My replacements?"
"You died, remember? The galaxy still needed saving, still does." Arius walked over to one screen and motioned her over to look at it. "When I found out you passed, I started vetting potential stand-ins. Take a look if you like," he said, pointing to one of the screens. "All have varying degrees of… you."
Shepard flipped through the profiles. There were members of nearly every race, most with teams of their own, and notes typed up under each one regarding their temperaments, service history, and suitability. Aside from those with combat experience, there were those in private and public sectors, civilians with surprising influence and sway.
"How did you get all of this information? Some of this looks classified."
"Some of it is public, some not so much. Some I bought from our mutual friend, the Shadow Broker."
"Guess it was the right call after all," Shepard grinned. "What are you looking for exactly? What are your criteria? Leadership qualities, can fire a gun?"
"Hard skills like those are useful, of course, but I'm looking for something a bit deeper; Sometimes, only selecting the top performers of a field does not guarantee anything other than a very effective tool. I'm looking for meta-skills, particular qualities not easily captured by holo or the written word…" he explained, narrowing his eyes at the profiles.
Shepard was by now well-versed in his body language and had seen the telltale flash in his eyes - the brief noticeable lighting of his iris that accompanied the emotional recall of something positive or important.
"Anyways," he concluded, deviating the direction of the conversation slightly, "the reason why I'm doing this: the Milky Way is a big place, and you are only one person. There are others out there like you, and they need support too. And the more they get supported, the more they support others. That's how we increase our galactic readiness."
The subtle dismissal of his own line of thinking flew in the face of his tell, and it had not gone unnoticed by Shepard. She didn't ask about it - she knew by this point that he trusted her and that if it was important, it would eventually resurface.
"You're doing great work. Keep it up."
A slight, awkward pause followed, and he tittered. "Now, I'm certain you didn't come down just to hear me monologue about galactic readiness. Something's on your mind, Shepard - you want to ask me something. What is it?"
"Fine, you got me," she admitted, raising a hand as if caught. "There is something that I've been curious about - I wanted to ask you about that sword of yours."
Shepard had expected him to launch into an enthusiastic lecture like he normally did, but instead, he fell silent, which she noted was entirely unlike him. Arius crossed his arms and leaned with his back against the desk he was standing beside, and when he spoke, his voice was flat and serious.
"Hmm. I assume you read the Shadow Broker's file on me? Is that what instigated this?"
"The Shadow Broker was keeping a file on you? I don't recall seeing one. What was in it?"
"More than I expected to see," he told her, frowning. "The Broker had an interest in me, which I expected - he was keeping a close eye on your crew, but there was also an interest… in that," he said, turning his gaze to where the dark blade rested. "I've been thinking about it since we left Hagalaz. I think I ought to tell you about it; I wouldn't want it to end up in the wrong hands should something happen to me." He turned his narrowed gaze back to her, and Shepard felt him scrutinizing her with enough intensity to pass through her bones like an x-ray. "Okay," he eventually said, motioning her to inspect the blade to her heart's content.
Now highly intrigued by the reverential manner in which Arius treated the object in question, Shepard approached the table. The sword rested on a cloth, and its dark metallic surface called out to her as it had when she had first seen it, incomprehensibly old and completely undecipherable. It looked unusual, ornate and not at all effective at its purpose.
A spark jumped between herself and the metal when she touched it, mildly jolting her. Being a biotic, small static discharges often occurred when she touched metal. Now grounded, she gave in to her inner-Prothean impulse to run a hand over its surface with closed eyes, then grew disappointed with her lack of perception and repeated it with eyes open. Its metal was cold under her hand, and the dark surface of it she saw was not wholly even; it darkened and lightened in a sort of gradient, and it reminded her of metal that had been heat-singed and blackened by fire. She rubbed a small spot with her thumb to see if the dark could lighten to what she perceived as its natural metallic lustre, but her thumb was clean and free from residue when she checked it. It then occurred how silly it was of her to even try.
"There's a question that I've been meaning to ask you, seeing as how you're familiar with the Protheans," she posed. "Something's been driving me batty since I received the Cipher; I feel the need to physically touch things new to me. Any idea why that could be?"
Her query must have surprised him, for his earlier seriousness nearly vanished. "Really? I'm amazed that that particular inclination transferred over to you. That's very interesting… Hmm. To answer your question - the main race of Prothean were hunters," he began. "Being hunters, they needed to be thoroughly aware of their environment, which by the process of evolution manifested as a unique trait whereby they were able to read the experience of an object with physical touch. It was like…" Arius placed a hand under his chin, thinking, "imagine every surface you ever encountered was packed with braille that told of its last interaction," he said, running his hand over the desk surface next to him. "To feel the echoes of the past with just a touch… every surface held a story in ways we never dreamed of."
"Braille? You mean that old human tactile writing system?"
"Yes. Ha, right… humanity cured most cases of blindness a few years back. I'm showing my age. But you get my analogy."
"I keep touching things, and a part of me expects to know about it, but I never do. What exactly could they read from it?"
"They were capable of learning a new skill or foreign language with a single touch. Needless to say, I was incredibly envious. You and I rely mainly on structured sounds and body language to communicate. In comparison, we're incredibly dense in our perception of each other. We don't often say what we feel or feel what we say; our minds are often unknown even to us, much less our companions. Imagine a society where all your thoughts and actions were open like a book."
"Sounds like the plot of a dystopian science-fiction novel."
"Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction."
"It often is. So, your sword, what makes it special? Where's it from?"
"I can only offer speculation," Arius warned her, "But I'll tell you what I know. The leading theory had been that it arrived with that ancient starship whose drive core ruptured over our planet - our alpha event. We never found any records of it before that time, and we've never found anything like it since, so we assumed that's when it arrived."
He walked over and stood close beside her while they both looked down at the artifact. "For a time, it was regarded as magic if you could believe it, but of course, any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. I first heard of it from tales that I read as a child; It was one of my favourites. Like the human tales of Excalibur and King Arthur, it was an artifact that appeared and disappeared through our history, raising some to new heights of authority while damming others as it was hunted for its power."
"How did you find it?"
"With a lot of investigative work and a whole lot of luck. It started entirely by accident - Imagine looking at some old archival footage and noticing something from your childhood storybook. I slowly traced a trail, and it was not as difficult to track as you might think it would be. Humanity's oldest instance of archival digital media is about two hundred years old. In comparison, the oldest asari instance of digital media is nearly three thousand years old. Given the exponential pace of technological progress and population, the amount of digital media available for a long-lived species like the asari is staggeringly huge - and with storage space and computing also becoming exponentially cheaper, you can find reliable, clear historical info on just about anything. I found manifests, bills of sale, and video footage when I looked for it, and the more I looked, the more I realized that others were looking for it too. By the time I was on its trail, its days being swung on a battlefield of mud were long over and instead, it mainly passed hands either through collector sale or theft. Eventually, to my incredible surprise, I found it on a dead planet in a subterranean chamber still being held by the corpse of its previous owner. So," he said, giving a big inhale, "I took it. And… well... the rest is history."
"And did anyone come after you?"
He scoffed. "The very moment I touched it."
"So you've been on the run ever since? That sounds exhausting. Ever thought of dropping it?"
"Constantly... Until the Reapers wiped out all competition in the galaxy. I became the only person who knew what it was."
"... And what is it, exactly?"
"That, Miss Shepard, is the million credit question. If I have your assurance not to divulge what I am about to share, I'll explain some of what I know. Forgive my protectiveness; old habits die very hard."
She nodded, fascinated by how serious he took this. He walked over to the door, locked it, and returned. Arius lifted one end of the sword off the cloth and gestured to it. "What I can tell you is that it's a strange thing. You see, I can run my hand over its edge, which by all measurements is blunt." He demonstrated, crudely swiping his hand over the edge, "but swing it with purpose, and it'll cleave anything down to the molecule… and I mean anything. Systems Alliance issues monomolecular blades for its N7 operatives, which are some of the best modern cutting weapons; I would say that they may be mildly comparable in slash effectiveness, but that's where the similarities end. The major difference mainly is that those blades wear… and quickly. Despite its beaten appearance, this artifact does not wear, nor can I damage it if I try. I've swung it at enough things to know."
"Like the relays?"
"Yes, like the relays, only this design looks uncharacteristically different from anything the Reapers have designed."
"You rarely bring it into fights with you. Given what it can do, why don't you use it more often?"
"For good reasons: It's large, heavy and perhaps worse of all, it's distinctive," he vocalized through lightly clenched teeth, "as made apparent recently by the Shadow Broker files," he said, frowning. He set the ancient blade back down. "The crux of it is, and this is perhaps the most interesting thing about it - It's good at being a sword, but I don't think that's its primary purpose. It's just too large, too heavy. The way that it interacts with things," he attempted to explain to her. "Something I can't quite grasp. It can sense things... It doesn't communicate, but you can feel it all the same. It speaks… no, that's not the right word for it…"
It was her turn to look quizzically at him. His explanations made no sense, and it was rare to see him hunt for words.
"It sings. That's it. It sings," he said, satisfied with his word choice. "Like a… tuning fork. And if you listen," he told her, with a concentrated look in his eyes, "and I mean really listen, you can hear it."
She wasn't sure what to make of it. "That sounds strange indeed."
He narrowed his eyes at her again, deliberating something in his head. "Hmm, why don't you give it a try?"
"Try what?"
"To hear it. Here, take a seat, and we'll give it a go."
Curious, she sat in an empty chair, and he gently picked up the large object and brought it over to her. He set it down with the blade's tip resting against the metal floor at their feet. Amazingly, it didn't break through and pass through the ship like she thought it would. He took her hands, which she noted were warm, and wrapped each one around the bare grip of the sword gently.
"Closing your eyes may help," he advised her.
She did, and she waited.
"What do you feel?" he asked her.
"Cold metal."
"Well, physically, you are not wrong."
"Humph. Smartass."
Shepard grasped the hilt and waited. She shrugged her shoulders, then opened her eyes and looked at him quizzically, searching him for some indication.
"Try again," he asked, "Continue to listen… try with your mind, not your ears. If it helps, remove yourself further. Try visualizing something… fluid… that you indirectly see a sound effect, like water or sand."
Shepard repeatedly placed her hands on the cold metal and tried to feel something. She closed her eyes and concentrated.
She chose water. She imagined it in all directions, a flat expanse that stretched endlessly as far as her imagination could see, nearly still and reflective of a setting sky. There was nothing else. She concentrated, projecting her mind outward, feeling the water's surface, like running a hand over a wrinkled cloth to smooth it out. After doing this for some time, she began to feel foolish, not knowing if she was doing the right thing, feeling a little self-conscious sitting there meditating while being intently watched. Growing impatient, her thoughts grew aggressive, and she imagined slapping the hands of her mind down onto the waters like one would while sitting in a pool. She continued to sit, slowly grating with irritation while she tried provoking something, anything, but eventually, she gave up and mentally dismissed herself, turning from the waters and resigning to the outcome. She thought it was out of her control and out of her power, and that was alright. If it worked and helped him, then that's all she needed to know.
At the very release of her thoughts, a disturbance was felt all around her, subtly vibrating the waters of her mind - like a string had been plucked somewhere, and the resonance of it spread over the surface. She opened her eyes in shock, unsure if she had inadvertently thought of it under suggestion or if it had happened like he said it would.
He must have read the expression on her face, for he grinned. "You felt something?" he questioned her, growing excited.
"Yes, but I…" her voice trailed as she deliberated on how best to describe it.
He laughed, delighted with the progress. "Why did you stop?"
Hurriedly she shut her eyes and resumed her concentration, projecting herself into whatever had made the ripple, but after several tries, she availed nothing. "Nothing now," she muttered, slightly dejected.
"It's a start. Don't expect too much at the beginning," he said, shrugging. He took the sword back and lifted it back to the table. "You have my permission to try again, even if I'm not present. And it's not that I don't trust the crew; I do, but please keep this to yourself. You too, EDI."
"I can respect that."
"Thank you. Erm, one last thing - if you try again, there may be a point where it becomes a bit… overwhelming," he warned her. "Don't be afraid of it - you can always let go if it gets too intense."
The experience had been eerie enough, and Arius' cryptic advice did nothing to help her make sense of it. "Uh, sure."
Shepard was about to relinquish him to his earlier task when EDI's voice interrupted her. "Shepard, you have an incoming message from Admiral Steven Hackett, Alliance HQ."
"I'll take it in my quarters, EDI. Duty calls," she declared to Arius.
"Commander."
.
Besides possessing a rank that forced her to stand at attention, Admiral Steven Hackett was one of the few people in the galaxy with whom Shepard harboured a sense of utmost respect and fierce loyalty. His ascent from enlisted man to admiral remained an Alliance legend, and he was a good man - the kind of admiral a soldier dreamed of serving under. Competent, forgiving and genuinely concerned about the welfare and opinions of the men and women serving under him, he had been one of the three officers who had recommended her as the first human Spectre and had trusted her judgement during the Battle of the Citadel even at the cost of many human lives.
Shepard locked her door, approached her desk and tapped a command on her terminal to open a direct connection to the admiral. With a connection established, the lights in her loft dimmed, and a holographic image of Admiral Steven Hackett grew till it filled the entire glass front of her model spaceship collection.
"Commander. Thank you for your time. I'll keep this brief," he stated. The holo's light cast an orange-tinted glow on the surfaces of her cabin. "We have a deep-cover operative out in batarian space. Name's Doctor Amanda Kenson. Dr. Kenson recently reported that she found evidence of an imminent Reaper invasion."
The news struck her as both alarming and odd. If the evidence was truthful, he should have alerted every species in the galaxy rather than talking to her privately. She knew she would not like the answer.
"So why call me, Sir?"
"Just this morning I received word that the batarians arrested her. They're holding her in a secret prison outpost on terrorism charges. I need you to infiltrate the prison and get her out of there." And as if the news wasn't bad enough, he added: "As a favour to me, I'm asking you to go in alone."
"Alone? I have a hell of a squad with me. I'm sure they'd help out."
The Admiral shook his head. "No. Kenson is my friend. If the batarians see a squad of armed soldiers, they'll kill her. This is serious, Commander. Go in with discretion, or don't go at all."
She leaned against the shelf behind her, hesitant as she weighed her options. "That must be some proof she found."
"Kenson's team found an artifact out in batarian space. She believes it's a Reaper device, proof that the Reapers are indeed planning to invade, and soon. I've known her for a long time. If she says she has proof, it's worth checking out."
"What else can you tell me about the operative?" she asked.
"Amanda is a top scientist and Alliance agent working in batarian space. It's a deadly assignment, and she's one of the few up to the challenge. She and I go back pretty far, Commander. I won't let her rot away in a batarian torture camp."
Seeing as the current state of affairs between humanity and the batarians was tense as it were, the thought was chilling.
"The batarians won't take kindly to the Alliance breaking into a secret prison."
"This is not an Alliance operation - it's a one-person going in alone to save a friend. If it were an official mission, of course, the batarians would be upset. You keep this quiet, Shepard, and there's nothing to worry about."
Except for one thing, Shepard thought to herself, when the Reapers were involved, nothing ever went according to plan. "I'll make this a top priority."
"Thank you, Shepard," Hackett responded gratefully. "The prison is hidden underground at a batarian outpost on Aratoht. I'll upload the coordinates now." His head lowered, seemingly tapping away at the terminal in front of him. "Once she's secure, confirm her discovery. We'll debrief you when you're back."
"Got it."
He nodded to her. "Hackett out."
Closing the connection, the holos-screen faded, and her lights grew back to full luminosity, leaving her staring at the model Reaper she had on display. Too soon, she thought. They weren't ready.
Shepard travelled back down the CIC. Activating the galaxy map, she zeroed in on the planet Aratoht in the Viper Nebula. It rested on one of the farthest spiralling arms of the Milky Way, almost looking like it was a separate entity compared to the rest of the tightly packed gases and stars that made up its mass of matter.
"Shepard," started EDI's hologram, "The Batarian Hegemony considers any presence of Alliance military vessels in batarian space as hostile. The Normandy SR2, while an independent vessel, strongly resembles the Normandy SR1, an Alliance ship. Use of stealth systems is highly recommended."
"Thanks for the heads-up, EDI." She opened a channel to Joker. "Joker, get us to Aratoht... silently. We don't want to start a war."
"Aye, Aye, Commander."
She took a moment to think about her next course of action and decided what she needed to do. She took the elevator back down the engineering deck and walked back into the starboard cargo hold.
Arius looked surprised to see her again; after all, only a few minutes had passed since she had left. "Back so soon?" said, greeting her.
"I just spoke to Hackett," she told him. "A trusted friend of his found evidence of an imminent Reaper invasion."
There was a fleeting moment of his mouth opening and closing silently, and she saw his eyes changing again, this time dimming so that they seemed darker. His brow furrowed. "What kind of evidence?" he asked her with careful words.
"The Alliance has a deep-cover operative out in batarian space. The scientist's name is Dr. Amanda Kenson," she repeated to him. "Apparently Kenson's team found an artifact out in batarian space. She believes it's a Reaper device, proof that the Reapers are indeed planning to invade, and soon."
He stared into space, thinking hurriedly. "The Alliance has not yet reported this finding to the rest of the galaxy. I would have known about it by now." His eyes focused back on hers. "Why have they not?"
"The batarians arrested her. They're holding her in a secret prison outpost on terrorism charges. I'm going to infiltrate the prison and get her out of there before they unknowingly doom us all."
Unsettled, the one formerly known as the Wanderer got up from the chair and paced around the room, dark lines etched on his face. The atmosphere seemed to change at once, and a heaviness settled upon the room.
"I suppose it was going to happen eventually," he muttered, shaking his head. "But better we have some forewarning than having none at all. Where are we headed?"
"Aratoht."
"I've heard of it. That's on the far side of the galaxy, isn't it? Batarian space, obviously." His mind raced. "We have only a few hours before we get there. We need to get ready."
"No," the Commander explained. "I've been ordered to go solo on this one."
His pacing stopped, and he turned to her sharply. She did not wait for his disagreement. "As you can imagine, this is a sensitive matter," she reminded him. He agreed begrudgingly.
"However," Shepard explained, waving her finger, "just because I'm heading alone doesn't mean I don't need your help. I'd like you to provide me with a live sitrep while I'm down there. The support you gave me at Dominic's party was solid, and you'll have a much better view with the full measure of the Normandy's surveillance capabilities at your disposal. I need every edge I can get. No human has ever escaped alive from this place," she said, her fist curling into a ball. "I intend to break that record. So," she asked him, hard blue eyes connecting with his. "Do I have your support?"
"I'm hurt that you would expect any answer other than 'Yes'"
"Good. EDI can help set you up. I'm going to check my gear."
